“What do you want with me? Please just let me go!” I could hear the woman yelling in the next apartment. I had lived next door to the same people for about 6 months now and had never seen them but boy did I hear them. The woman whom I believed was named Sharon, always seemed to be pleading with the man, who I only ever heard addressed as Master.
Tonight there was a new voice, another man also addressed as Master. Apparently he was meaner. I debated calling the police but knew that no one would probably come. I had called them about 2 months ago when I was sure that “Sharon” was being killed. I was pretty much told to mind my own business. I got the distinct impression that the police knew what was going on over there so it must not be illegal.
I listened to the cries and begging for about 15 more minutes and then I couldn’t stand it any longer. I needed to do something about it; I couldn’t just stand by while someone could be being hurt. I pulled on a pair of flannel pj pants over my white cotton bikinis and grabbed the baseball bat that I kept by the door. I knew that I probably looked ridiculous wearing a wife beater and flannel pants while carrying a bat. My long curly blonde hair was piled into a haphazard bun on the top of my head as I silently entered the hallway.
The noise from next door was louder in the hallway. I could hear male laughter and “Sharon” begging to be punished? I thought that I must be hearing wrong, no one would beg to be punished, would they?
Gathering my courage I rapped loudly on the door. It opened almost immediately. Standing there was a very tall very handsome man wearing only black silk boxers. Dark hair covered his well-muscled chest and narrowed downward into his waistline.
“I can hear what ever it is you’re doing to that woman and I’m pretty sure that it needs to stop,” I said quickly feeling panic pooling in my stomach. This was a big, strong man who might not take too kindly to piddly little women interfering with his life.
The man looked down on my scrawny 5’2” frame and began laughing. “Are you going to stop me with that bat little one?” he asked in a heavy French accent. “Why don’t you come in and see for yourself what is going on?” with that he swung the door open wider and I gasped. There in the middle of the living room was a very beautiful naked woman tied up and being fucked from behind by someone I couldn’t see very well.
Her wrists were tied to two hooks coming from the ceiling and her legs were spread eagled and each ankle was tied to metal loop coming out of the floor. On her nipples were clamps that looked extremely painful as thought they were biting into her tender flesh. With each thrust her body was straining hard against the restraints that made her cry out in pain.
I instinctively backed farther from the doorway; whatever was going on here was not going to involve me. I was too slow. The man reached out and drug me into the apartment by my arm and shut the door behind me. “Look at her,” he ordered grabbing my chin and turning my head towards the poor woman. “Sharon like it rough, the pain is like a drug to her. This is excitement, this is ecstasy to her.”
I fought down the revulsion that was climbing quickly inside of me. “Let me go, you people are sick,” I said and attempted to wrench my head from his grasp. He just laughed and led me, by my face to a sofa directly in front of the woman. From here I could see the little rivulets of her blood as they ran down her sloping breasts from the metal teeth. Her nipples were so hard and puckered and a flush had spread over her chest.
